‘You are under arrest, Lady Alhana,’ the Lord said heavily. Sturm took a step nearer the woman as the guards closed in around her. Sturm threw back his head and cast them all a warning glance. So confident and noble did he appear, even unarmed, that the guards hesitated. Still, their Lord had given them an order.
‘You better do something,’ Flint growled. ‘I’m all for chivalry, but there’s a time and a place and this isn’t either!’
‘Have you got any suggestions?’ Tanis snapped.
Flint didn’t answer. There wasn’t a damn thing any of them could do and they knew it. Sturm would die before one of those guards laid a hand on the woman again, even though he had no idea who this woman was. It didn’t matter. Feeling himself torn with frustration and admiration for his friend, Tanis gauged the distance between himself and the nearest guard, knowing he could put at least one out of action. He saw Gilthanas close his eyes, his lips moving. The elf was a magic-user, though he rarely treated it seriously. Seeing the look on Tanis’s face, Flint heaved a sigh and turned toward another guard, lowering his helmeted head like a battering ram.
Then suddenly the Lord spoke, his voice grating. ‘Hold, knight!’ he said with the authority that had been bred in him for generations. Sturm, recognizing this, relaxed, and Tanis breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I will not have blood shed in this Council chamber. The lady has disobeyed a law of the land, laws which, in days gone by, you, sir knight, were sworn to uphold. But I agree, there is no reason to treat her disrespectfully. Guards, you will escort the lady to prison but with the same courtesy you show me. And you, sir knight, will accompany her, since you are so interested in her welfare.’
Tanis nudged Gilthanas who came out of his trance with a start. ‘Truly, as Sturm said, this Lord comes from a noble and honorable line,’ Tanis whispered.
‘I don’t see what you’re so pleased about, Half-elf.’ Flint grunted, overhearing them. ‘First the kender gets us charged with inciting a riot, then he disappears. Now the knight gets us thrown into prison. Next time, remind me to stick with the mage. I know he’s crazed!’
As the guards started to herd their prisoners away from the bench, Alhana appeared to be hunting for something within the folds of her long skirt.
‘I beg a favor, sir knight,’ she said to Sturm. ‘I seem to have dropped something. A trifle but precious. Could you look—’
Sturm knelt swiftly and immediately saw the object where it lay, sparkling, on the floor, hidden by the folds of her dress. It was a pin, shaped like a star, glittering with diamonds. He drew in his breath. A trifle! Its value must be incalculable. No wonder she did not want it found by these worthless guards. Quickly he wrapped his fingers around it, then feigned to look about. Finally, still kneeling, he looked up at the woman.
Sturm caught his breath as the woman removed the hood of her cloak and drew the veil from her face. For the first time, human eyes looked upon the face of Alhana Starbreeze.
Muralasa, the elves called her—Princess of the Night. Her hair, black and soft as the night wind, was held in place by a net as fine as cobweb, twinkling with tiny jewels like stars. Her skin was the pale hue of the silver moon, her eyes the deep, dark purple of the night sky and her lips the color of the red moon’s shadows.
The knight’s first thought was to give thanks to Paladine that he was already on his knees. His second was that death would be a paltry price to pay to serve her, and his third that he must say something, but he seemed to have forgotten the words of any known language.
‘Thank you for searching, noble knight,’ Alhana said softly, staring intently into Sturm’s eyes. ‘As I said, it was a trifle. Please rise. I am very weary and, since it seems we are going to the same place, you could do me a great favor by giving me your assistance.’
‘I am yours to command,’ Sturm said fervently, and he rose to his feet, swiftly tucking the jewel inside his belt. He held out his arm, and Alhana put her slender, white hand on his forearm. His arm trembled at her touch.
It seemed to the knight as if a cloud had covered the light of the stars when she veiled her face again. Sturm saw Tanis fall into line behind them, but so enraptured was the knight with the beautiful face burning in his memory that he stared straight at the half-elf without a flicker of recognition.
Tanis had seen Alhana’s face and felt his own heart stir with her beauty. But he had seen Sturm’s face as well. He had seen that beauty enter the knight’s heart, doing more damage than a goblin’s poisoned arrowtip. For this love must turn to poison, he knew. The Silvanesti were a proud and haughty race. Fearing contamination and the loss of their way of life, they refused to have even the slightest contact with humans. Thus the Kinslayer Wars had been fought.
No, thought Tanis sadly, the silver moon itself was not higher or farther out of Sturm’s reach. The half-elf sighed. This was all they needed.
6
Knights of Solamnia. Tasslehoffs glasses of true seeing.
As the guards led the prisoners from the Hall of Justice, they passed two figures standing outside in the shadows. Both were so swathed in clothing it was difficult to tell to what race they belonged. Hoods covered their heads, their faces were wrapped in cloth. Long robes shrouded their bodies. Even their hands were wrapped in strips of white, like bandages. They spoke together in low tones.
‘See!’ one said in great excitement. ‘There they are. They match the descriptions.’
‘Not all of them,’ said the other dubiously.
‘But the half-elf, the dwarf, the knight! I tell you, it is them! And I know where the others are,’ the figure added smugly. ‘I questioned one of the guards.’
The other, taller figure considered, watching the group being led off down the street. ‘You are right. We should report this to the Highlord at once.’ The shrouded figure turned, then stopped as it saw the other hesitate. ‘What are you waiting for?’
‘But shouldn’t one of us follow? Look at those puny guards. You know the prisoners will try and escape.’
The other laughed unpleasantly. ‘Of course they’ll escape. And we know where they’ll go—to rejoin their friends.’ The shrouded figure squinted up at the afternoon sun. ‘Besides, in a few hours it won’t make any difference.’ The tall figure strode away, the shorter hurrying after.
It was snowing when the companions left the Hall of Justice. This time, the constable knew better than to march his prisoners through the main city streets. He led them into a dark and gloomy alleyway that ran behind the Hall of Justice.
Tanis and Sturm were just exchanging glances, and Gilthanas and Flint were just tensing to attack when the half-elf saw the shadows in the alley begin to move. Three hooded and cloaked figures leaped out in front of the guards, their steel blades gleaming in the bright sunlight.
The constable put his whistle to his lips, but he never made a sound. One of the figures knocked him unconscious with the hilt of his sword, while the other two rushed the guards, who immediately fled. The hooded figures faced the companions.
‘Who are you?’ Tanis asked, astounded at his sudden freedom. The hooded and cloaked figures reminded him of the hooded draconians they had fought outside of Solace. Sturm pulled Alhana behind him.
‘Have we escaped one danger only to find a worse?’ Tanis demanded. ‘Unmask yourselves!’
But one of the hooded men turned to Sturm, his hands raised in the air. ‘Oth Tsarthon e Paran,’ he said.
Sturm gasped. ‘Est Tsarthai en Paranaith,’ he replied, then he turned to Tanis. ‘Knights of Solamnia,’ he said, gesturing at the three men.
‘Knights?’ Tanis asked in astonishment. ‘Why—’